


Moments In The Embers

by edieleth



Series: After the Flames [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (lysithea is an honorary black eagle ok), F/F, Freeform, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, set immediately after ch. 18 of crimson flower, they all need a break tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edieleth/pseuds/edieleth
Summary: The war is finally over and the Black Eagles stop to breathe in the flames.





	Moments In The Embers

The silence is what catches Bernadetta first. With Rhea dead her inhuman yells no longer taint the air with their magic, and city of Fhirdiad is blessedly silent. It’s also still on fire, which she thinks should terrify her. All she can think from her perch on the roof of some house she doesn't remember climbing up, is that awash in flames the city is beautiful. 

If her younger self could see her now she wouldn't believe it. Little Bernadetta the girl once too scared to leave her room standing tall bow clutched in hand, over a city lit bright by the flames of a beast. She would laugh if she weren't so tired, at the absurdity of it all.

Bernadetta once read about a flower that only blooms in the flames, she feels she must be the same.

She had followed Edelgard into a war a scared quiet girl with no family she could trust and come out the other side still quiet but no longer scared with a group forged in the same flames she's proud to call family. The past five years had certainly been tough, but she would not trade them for anything. They had helped shaped her into someone better, still Bernie just Bernie enhanced. Not quite so afraid of the world, not so eager to run away from it all. She likes herself a lot better this way. 

She knows she'll have to get down somehow, probably with the help of Lysithea or Linhardt if they have anymore warps left in them. But for now she takes in the view, hands itching for her sketchbook to capture the moment.

Bernadetta takes a deep breath, and listens to the silence.

  


* * *

  


His hands are covered in blood, the very sight of them threatens to make his stomach heave it’s contents up into the streets. Lindhart pushes it down though, and settles against the few walls not set ablaze in the city closing his eyes if only just for a moment. 

It is over now, never again will he need to be on the front lines of battle, the thought brings a smile to his face.

“Linhardt!” Caspar’s yell is frantic and loud and so very _ Caspar _it makes his smile bloom into almost a full grin. He refuses to open his eyes just yet though. “Oh no please don’t be dead not now, we had so much planned-”

Caspar’s anguished babbling finally brings Linhardt to open his eyes again. His view is only of Caspar kneeling in front of him, hands just as bloody as his clutching at Linhardt. “Not dead just resting.”

“I can’t believe you!” Caspar shifting quickly from worried to annoyed, “We just won and you’re taking a nap! C’mon Lin we should be celebrating! _ We won _!” 

Linhardt could honestly not be bothered to care that they won. All his happiness on the fact they are alive, that Caspar is alive. That the future they had planned in those rare peaceful moments can finally be theirs. They can run away together and never look back.

It is then Linhardt realizes, all tiredness draining from him, that in all this time he has never actually kissed Caspar. He feels now he’ll go mad with the want of it if doesn't kiss him.

It’s not how he ever envisioned it, surrounded by flames, and covered in blood and all manner of things he’d rather not think about. But as he leans forwards and presses his lips to Caspar’s cutting off his loud victory cheers, Linhardt thinks it’s absolutely perfect. He doesn’t even complain when Caspar hoists him up and spins him around laughing all the while going on about how he’d been waiting for Linhardt to do that for years now. 

Linhardt thinks then, that maybe for once sleep can wait, if only so he can see the joy on Caspar’s face just for a moment longer.

  


* * *

  


She had never cared for silence, being a musician will do that to you. Fills you with the constant need for a melody or a voice, just any noise to fill a space. The sound of war is something Dorothea never got used to though, so the silence of Fhirdiad is both a blessing and a curse. 

She feels like holding her breath in it, the way she does before a show begins and she breaks out into song. 

Perhaps later she’ll write an opera about this moment among the ashes of a once glorious city. 

Perhaps she’ll also make the heroine in the image of Petra. Dorothea can’t help but stare at her by her side. She’s leaning heavily on her sword, breath coming out in rough pants. Her eyes trained upwards at the spot Rhea once stood, as if waiting for her to get back up and begin the terror anew.

In her traditional armor, hair pulled back in intricate, prayer marks out for the world to see, standing amongst the flames Dorothea thinks she has never looked more like the warrior princess she is, than she does in this moment.

Dorothea walks closer to her hands alight with white magic, a heal spell for the cuts and burns that mar Petra’s skin. Neither say a word as she sets to work. But then again words have never really been needed between them.

“What is it?” Dorothea finds herself laughing nervously, Petra is looking at her with a mix of wonder and adoration. She doesn't feel deserving of it. Not from someone as amazing as her.

“I am just thinking” Petra turns fully towards her, hands coming up to cup her cheeks, “Here in the war fires, you are looking like the flame spirit come to life.” 

Petra blushes and averts her eyes, and Dorothea could write hundreds of melodies about how beautiful she looks just then. 

“You are very strong, and very beautiful, is what I mean.”

Dorothea cannot name why out of everything that has happened in this five year hell they have lived that is what brings her to tears. But it does and she is helpless to stop it.

So she gathers Petra as close as she can head resting on the shoulder that had been promised to her. And she sobs into the woman she loves, years of anguish finally spilling out. 

Dimly she registers Petra’s voice soft and sweet in a melody and language she does not know. A Brigid lullaby to soothe her heart as she strokes her hair and holds her tightly.

The warrior princess and the flame spirit, an opera for the ages.

  


* * *

  


The Immaculate One bleeds green. 

Lysithea is unsure why it surprises her so that its blood is a different color than her own. It is after all a creature not of this land, supernatural and mystifying. 

The Immaculate One bleeds green.

And Lysithea finds herself entranced. She watches it flow out and mix with the ashes in the streets. Thyrsus still pulses with power in her hand. She has used it to kill many in this war. But the war is over now. 

And the Immaculate One bleeds green.

She had joined the black eagles because she wanted to learn from the professor. She had stayed with the black eagles because she believed in Edelgard's vision for the world. Turning on those who had once been classmates and countrymen. She has no regrets.

For the first time in her life Lysithea can see her future stretching out before her. The length of it does not frighten her anymore.There is no war, no pressing issue to force her to continue on. Just her own hope, and that is enough. She will find a way to get her lost years back, but even if she doesn’t she will cherish the time she has. 

Lysithea remembers the promise she made Edelgard to never stop fighting. She thinks now she will fulfill that promise in a different way than she has in recent days. She’s spent enough of her life fighting, for now she will rest, and dare fate to push her back into battle. She’ll make it regret even trying. 

The Immaculate One bleeds green. 

Lysithea thinks her future does as well.

* * *

  


They walk further into the flames towards Edelgard.

Ferdinand had lost his horse early in the battle, the poor thing scared off by the fire. Hubert leans heavily on him, clearly having pushed himself too far with the amount of spells he cast. He'd been popping in and out of the battlefield warping civilians away from the fire, and fending off the knights that aimed to take down Edelgard on her path to Rhea.

Ferdinand is no better, having taken more than one blow from Rhea’s magical dolls trying to clear a path for Edelgard. He does his best to support Hubert's weight while leaning is own onto his lance. And they walk further into the flames.

The war is over now, the Church of Serios is no more. Edelgard had really done it, force of nature that she is. Ferdinand knows he has just been a part of history, the thought doesn't excite him as much as it used to. He does want this war to be all he is remembered for wants this to only be a small part in the history he will be in.

He feels Hubert shift on his shoulder and he grips him tighter. He has no name for the relationship that has blossomed between them these past years. Harsh words, mellowing to a shared understanding they would both give their lives for Edelgard if needed. Tea times where they spoke of nothing, and everything, unspoken promises that they would stick by each other no matter came after the war. What form that forever would take he knows not, but he knows that in this moment he does not want Hubert to hurt more than he already is. 

They have a future to shape together after all.

“If you are trying to put on a brave front for me you can stop” Hubert's words are not nearly as biting as he is clearly trying to make them be. “You can barely support your own weight, let alone both of ours.”

“I am fine Hubert.” And he tries to take another step forward, into the flames to where Edelgard and the professor are. He is clearly not fine, digging his lance into the ground to brace himself.

“No you are not,” Hubert pushes himself off Ferdinand and wraps a hand around his arm holding him up. “You would be a fool to push yourself to death now. Not when I-” He cuts himself off, blushing, and looks off into the distance. 

Ferdinand grins, silently pleased he can still make Hubert blush. He’s going to make Hubert finish that sentence one day. There’s a lot he’s planning to do with Hubert in the future. They're going to write history together, side by side at the Emperors back.

For now though they need to get back to Edelgard and the professor, and plan what to do next.

So Ferdinand stretches out a hand, a compromise to Hubert. Hubert offers a rare smile and takes his hand. 

Together they walk further into the flames towards the woman they both swore to stand by, hand in hand.

* * *

Rhea is dead, her war can finally end, her goal achieved. Edelgard should be thrilled, elated, any number of happy emotions. Instead all she feels is terror. 

She had told Byleth herself that she was not sure what would happen to her after Rhea was defeated. It had not prepared her for the fear that gripped her heart when Byleth collapsed. The world closed in around her, as she ran and gathered Byleth into her arms.

The city was silent.

She pressed an ear to Byleth’s chest searching for a heartbeat. She found none. 

Edelgard could not remember the last time she cried, had rebelled against tears for as long as she could remember. Now anguish overtook her, and she wept. Wept for the future that had just been stolen from her, wept for Byleth who never knew of affection, wept for a love so strong it had held her together for five long years. 

In the burning city of Fhirdiad Edelgard sobbed like a child. And begged to a goddess she wasn’t even sure she believed in to give her back Byleth. Even if just for a year, or a month, or a day, a _minute. _At least long enough for her to tell Byleth how dearly she was loved.

The city was silent, the cries of the emperor the only noise to be heard.

She’s not sure how long she sat there cradling Byleth close to her whispering all the things she should have said between her tears. When suddenly something shifts, like a key snapping into place. Edelgard leans down one more time, ear pressed to Byleth’s chest. 

It’s faint, but study, a heartbeat at last. Edelgard gathers her closer laughing through her tears, pure joy in her veins. Byleth will live, her love is not gone. 

“El,” Byleth’s soft call has her pulling back, and she gasps. Byleth’s hair and eyes have returned to their natural color, she is achingly beautiful. 

“El,” Byleth says her name again a smile blossoming onto her lips. Without warning she leans forwards and kisses Edelgard softly. It lasts only for a moment but it is more than enough. They have forever after all.

Edelgard looks up to see the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force making their way towards where they sit wrapped up into each other. They all look utterly tired, but smiles grace each face. The war is over, and they’ve all made it through to the end. She promised them she would protect them, all of them had become like family. She finds she is prouder than anything else she has accomplished at having kept that promise. 

Byleth shifts in her embrace to wrap her arms around Edelgard in return. And Edelgard cannot help but to lean down and press a kiss to her lips, and then another just because she can.

“Guys look!”

It’s Bernadetta’s surprised cry that pulls the two of them apart. All of the Black Eagles tense, ready to attack should she be pointing out a missed foe. She is not, thankfully, it takes them all a moment to notice what it is that has caught her eyes.

When Edelgard sees it she can’t help but to squeeze Byleth a little closer, the joy in her heart overflowing.

_ A single crimson flower blooms among the flames. _

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as a little warm-up drabble before i started to work on my edeleth fic and kinda....spiraled lol  
comments are always appreciated!  
feel free to shoot me a follow request on twt im @edieleth


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